Fire
by Marigold-Scented-Candle
Summary: Seemingly meaningless scars spelled out kill and other talismans of violence. She could see the number four if she looked hard enough. "I'm not worth wasting your time on Hinata"


_Okay, this is the fifth in my HitsuHinata alphabet project. The prompt is fire. And I hope you enjoy. _

_Dedicated to Sam-jam. You're my best friend and like family to me. I love you a lot. (and hope you won't have my ass for posting this one) _

_DISCLAIMER: I don't own Bleach or Naruto_

"You have enough to deal with, don't bother yourself with my problems" Toushiro muttered, turning his head away and hiding his wrist from her, the soft scars that slashed across them. Some of them were the symbol for ten like on his haiori, some were words carved out with careful angular precision. Seemingly meaningless scars spelling out kill and other talismans of violence. She could see the number four if she looked hard enough.

"I'm not worth wasting your time on Hinata" he began softly, turquoise eyes and silver safety pin taking on a moonlit sheen. The irony of his weapon didn't escape either of them.

"I know you care. But it's really not worth it"

"I'm not worth it" his voice faded into a hiss as the sharpness of the safety pin flushed against his skin. The pin was cold, his skin was hot. Pulsing with anticipation and need and everything that went with the terrible addiction.

"Do you want me to stop?" The blade pressed closer.

"Yes" Hinata whispered. Tears spilling through her closed eyelids.

"Please" She shook, pulling in on herself and rocking, trying to shake away the uselessness. She wanted to do something. Anything. She couldn't just sit there. That wasn't what friends were supposed to do! But it was all she could do. Nothing.

"I'm sorry" Toushiro replied as the soft flicking sound of point and flesh could be heard. She only sobbed in response, her shaking become more pronounced then before.

"Please" she gripped the hand that held the sharp pin, which was now stained red. His eyes were mostly blank, with mixed in guilt and self-disgust.

"Please" the safety pin poked against her skin, bright and lustful. She pried it from his hand, and clipped it to the inner layer of her kimono

"H-Hinata what are you doing! That's covered in my blood! Why would you want that?"

"I-I want to keep it...Forever"

"A-as a reminder" _A reminder of my failure. A reminder that I couldn't make you love yourself' _

' _A reminder of how I should hate myself' _

Toushiro never saw what she had done to herself after that. He never saw the crisscrossing marks across her chest that were both words and nonsense he knew of them, but never had the courage to ask to see them.

'_How should I feel?' _ She wonders. Hateful, painful, sorrowful, hopeful, fearful?

' _There's going to be blood in my baby's milk' _she whispers it to herself, rubbing her stomach, even though it contains no child. Her and Toushiro had a marriage now, which sometimes, felt shaky and strange, and sometimes didn't work at all, inspiring them to completely abandon their shared apartment for a couple of days; a couple of weeks even, and go their separate ways so that they could sort things out. They both agreed that adding a child to the equation would definitely not being a good idea, but still, Hinata liked to dream about a little fiery child. Happy and nothing like her. Like Toushiro when he was having a good day except all the time, but she knew it was out of the question.

'_That child would see the animal that I hide' _

'_See the sadness and the failure' _

' _See a marriage based on survival and bloodlust' _

"All that kid would ever see was a life thrown in the fire" Toushiro placed a hand over her abdomen. Sometimes, there were moments like this, where their marriage worked for once, and he could read her mind.

"Maybe we should get a cat," He muttered. Seeing the loneliness in his wife's eyes, and wanting to stop it before it got any worse. Hinata smiled.

"We could name it Rina" Toushiro chuckled. Sometimes she could have amazing days, where all she could talk about were hopeful things. But he knew her fire was like an old gas stove; when it worked, it worked pretty well, but when it didn't work, you were going to get burned.

"Yeah. We could"


End file.
